


Lovan: Beginnings

by Cardigan_Quincy



Series: The Lovan Chronicles [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Divergent, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Lotor redemption arc, Matt needs a nap, Shiro is himself, Team as Family, They all need a nap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-03-24 05:09:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13804086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cardigan_Quincy/pseuds/Cardigan_Quincy
Summary: Lotor comes to the Paladins with an offer. Everything just gets more complicated from there.





	1. Lotor Gets Sent To His Room

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I'm so excited to finally post this. Quincy and I have been planning this out since, like, December. We'll have the next two chapters up in a day or two, but after that it'll slow down a bit. Hope you enjoy!

After the battle of Naxzela, the Voltron coalition held an emergency meeting.

Shiro took the time to check on the rest of his team first. A steadily growing shred of guilt tore at his stomach; he’d put all of them in so much danger, stubbornly making his own decision to stay instead of listening to their input. It worried him that he’d made the decision without thinking, like so many times before, and it had gone so, so badly…

“The leader they need,” Keith had said before leaving to join the Blade of Marmora. As if Shiro was qualified. As if Shiro knew what he was doing any more than Keith did, than any of them did. Shiro was shattering, the last of whatever had been holding him together destroyed by his recapture. He didn’t know how much longer…

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He needed to check on the rest of the paladins, and then the important meeting afterwards with everyone: Voltron, the Blade of Marmora, the rebels, planet  
leaders who were nearby and involved in the last battle… and Prince Lotor. All of that would require Shiro’s full attention. No time to get lost in his own self-pity now.

He found Lance and Allura together, heading out of the Blue lion’s hangar. Lance held his helmet under one arm, smiling so wide it took up most of his face. Allura was practically glowing, and Shiro heard her excitedly telling Lance about her connection with the blue lion, before they caught sight of him standing in the hangar door and both fell silent.

Shiro tried not to let it cut into him; the sudden silence, the way Lance’s smile slid and fell, Allura’s hesitant glance. He forced a smile onto his own face.

“Good work out there, Allura. And you too, Lance.” A wary smile from both of them. “You guys heard about the emergency meeting, right?”

“Heading there now,” Lance said. “I can’t believe we’re actually going to talk to Lotor, instead of, like, dropping him out of the airlock.”

“I’m interested to see what he has to say,” Allura said, glancing at the red paladin. “Maybe something that could help us turn the war.”

“I’m going to check on the others,” Shiro said. “I’ll meet you at the…” He trailed off, not sure whether they were listening to him.

“Thanks, Shiro.” Lance shot him a quick smile before turning back to Allura. “But seriously? The guy tried to kill us!”

“Trust me, when we drop him out of the airlock, I’ll be right there next to you hitting the button. I’m just curious…”

Their voices faded as they left the hangar. Shiro tried to silence the gnawing worry in his stomach. He was probably just imagining things, seeing his own guilt where no one else meant it.

He turned away, focusing on finding the rest of his team. He’d deal with this after the meeting.

Shiro found Pidge and Hunk together, both already on their way to the meeting. Pidge asked if he’d seen Matt, to which Shiro replied that he hadn’t, but he’d tell him to find her if he did. He ended up finding Matt a few minutes later, walking through the hangar door with Keith at his side. Matt looked upset about something, and Keith wouldn’t meet Shiro’s eyes for several moments, but neither of them said anything about it to him.

“Hey, Shiro.” Matt didn’t seem upset with him, at least. “You guys all right? Nobody was hurt?”

“Yeah, we’re good,” Shiro promised. “Pidge was looking for you, though.”

“I’ll catch her after the meeting and see what she needs.”

Keith barely looked up during the exchange. Shiro gave Matt a questioning look, but Matt just shook his head. Whatever was going on, neither of them were filling him on it.

He followed them through the hangar and into the castle, to the meeting room where the emergency gathering was being held. Keith and Matt walked together, and Shiro found himself falling farther behind, feeling like an outsider with his two best friends.

The meeting room was already full of members of the Coalition. Representatives from the Blade of Marmora, the rebel fleet, planets allied with the Coalition, and of course Voltron itself, sat around the long table, mostly bunched around one end. At the other end, his wrists handcuffed to the sides of his chair, sat the prince of the Galra empire. He didn’t look much like Zarkon, Shiro realized, with his long white hair and slim build, an easy-going air about him. Despite being chained to his chair, he was leaning back comfortably and had one ankle crossed over his opposite knee. He caught Shiro’s eye, and winked.

Matt immediately made a beeline to the empty seat next to Pidge, and Hunk waved Keith to the seat between himself and Lance. Before Shiro had a chance to find his own seat, Coran was at his side.

“There’s already been uproar about allowing Lotor in the meeting room at all,” Coran muttered into his ear. “I didn’t know what else to do. He’s already been searched and disarmed, and of course handcuffed. The castle is on maximum security alert, and there are extra guards from the Blade of Marmora stationed out in the hall. It should be safe, but all the same…”

“He saved all of our lives,” Shiro said, albeit reluctantly. “He’s earned the time to explain himself.”

“Right.” Coran and Shiro watched as the last of the Coalition representatives took their seats, and then Coran straightened his shoulders. “Well, that’s everyone. Suppose we’d best get started.”

Coran cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Thank you all for coming here. Today’s victory against the Galra empire was momentous, though not without its losses. We grieve the casualties suffered in this, and every, battle for freedom.” Several around the table looked down, including Matt. Shiro felt a stab of guilt. A third of the rebel fleet had been destroyed; undoubtedly, Matt had lost friends today.

“Our victory was made possible only through the alliance of the Voltron Coalition, and every organization and planet represented here around this table. We were able to destroy the Galra control over this entire sector of the galaxy, freeing a number of planets and countless individuals.” Coran raised his hand to pull up a holographic map over the table, showing each of the newly freed planets in blue. A loud applause broke out around the gathering. “For this, we thank the Blade of Marmora, the rebel fleets, and every planet we are grateful to count among the Coalition, as well as…” Coran hesitated, glancing back at Shiro, as if looking for an extra bit of strength to finish what he knew he had to say. Well, Shiro would give it to him.

“As well as Prince Lotor, of the Galra Empire,” Shiro said.

The response was incredible. After a stunned moment of silence, the entire room erupted into chaos. Arguments and shouting in a dozen different tones and dialects attacked Shiro’s senses. Coran raised his hands, trying to bring the noise level down to something bearable. As the room quieted once again, Lotor spoke up.

“Please, just Lotor is fine.” His voice was low, confident, lightly accented. “I’m not much involved with the Empire anymore, I’m afraid.”

Keith snorted. “What’d they do, kick you out?”

“Something like that,” Lotor said, entirely unfazed.

“Wow, wonder why anyone wouldn’t want a joy like you around.”

“Keith,” Shiro warned. Neither Keith nor Lotor answered.

Coran cleared his throat again. “Many of you know that the witch Haggar had planned to turn the planet Naxzela into a giant bomb, with the use of a weapon she was powering on a Galra battleship. Luckily, she was stopped and her ship destroyed before an unfathomable loss of life was caused. Matt?”

A moment of silence as Matt got to his feet, swiping his hand over the table to raise a holographic diagram of a ship identical to the one Haggar had been using. “This was the ship, with a sort of weapon attached to the front here, and surrounded by a particle barrier that none of our weapons could penetrate. It seemed like we weren’t going to be able to get through to the weapon itself, when Lotor arrived and blasted the entire thing. The particle barrier and the weapon were destroyed in one shot, saving Naxzela and anyone in the surrounding five solar systems.”

“The surrounding five solar systems held nearly all of the Voltron Coalition,” Coran added. “Lotor, quite literally, saved all of us. Without him, the rebellion would be nothing but a smear under the boot of the Empire right now. Metaphorically speaking.”

A chair squeaked, interrupting Coran. Keith was on his feet again, glaring at Lotor. “Maybe he did today. But before today? He did everything he could to destroy Voltron and the Coalition. He’s been our enemy since the moment we knew he existed, but all of a sudden you want us to believe that he did this out of the goodness of his heart? He’s dangerous and we cannot trust him.”

“I agree,” said someone further down the table, a representative from a planet Shiro had forgotten the name of. Several others were nodding. “Lotor is Zarkon’s son. He can only mean evil and destruction towards us.”

Loud voices spoke up, agreeing vehemently with the statement.

“I saved your life.” Lotor’s voice cut through the shouts, but his gaze was fixed on Keith. “All I ask for in return is a moment to speak and an offer to make. Not forgiveness; simply the silence to make myself heard.”

An uneasy quiet fell over the table. Keith glowered at him, but he didn’t interrupt.

“Go ahead, Lotor,” Shiro said.

“Thank you, paladin. As you all may know, I am now a fugitive from Zarkon. I have no allegiance to him, and I care nothing for his reign or his empire. What I do have is an endless knowledge of his secrets, military plans and tactics, and other information that may prove to be useful to your Coalition. In return for this information, I ask for the safety and protection you would provide to any ally of your cause. That is my offer.”

The gathering exploded again. Arguments began to break out across the table, heated shouts between rebels and planet leaders, and of course, Keith. Hunk and Lance both looked equally concerned, while Pidge was practically on her feet, arguing with someone seated across from her. Matt looked a bit distant, but he seemed to be following the arguments all the same. Allura glowered at Lotor.

Coran sighed, then raised his hands in an attempt to calm everyone down again. “Please, please. All of your concerns may be voiced, one at a time.”

“We can’t trust him,” Keith spat.

“I’m not asking you to trust me,” Lotor said calmly.

“You are.” Keith shot to his feet, hands braced against the table. “How do we know you’re not waiting for us to look away so you can go off and contact Zarkon, or someone else, to give our position away? You could be planning something right now, an attack, an invasion.”

“It’s dangerous enough that he’s been allowed in the castle at all,” one of the Blades said, his voice low and gravelly. Several Coalition members echoed their agreement.

Lotor stayed silent this time.

“As much as I hate to admit it, Keith’s right.” Lance crossed his arms over his chest. “Lotor’s done nothing but cause trouble for Voltron. Just because Zarkon wants us both dead doesn’t mean we should trust each other, or even be allies.”

A murmur of agreement spread throughout the table. Shiro watched as Keith gave a quick smile to Lance, who simply nodded in return. Over the last few minutes, Lotor’s expression had slipped from its confident smile to a neutral, guarded look. Shiro couldn’t tell whether he was hiding something, or whether he was just nervous about his deal going awry.

“But the information he has.” One of the rebels from the base on Olkarion spoke up. “Surely that could be useful, even integral, in our fight against Zarkon.”

“Maybe.” Pidge drummed her fingers against the table. “If it’s even new information. Between the intelligence gathered by the Blade of Marmora, my scanners, and the frequencies Matt and I picked up on, there’s not a lot that happens in the Galra Empire that we don’t already know about. I don’t know that Lotor could surprise us with anything at this point.”

“My father has ruled for ten thousand years.” Something flashed across Lotor’s eyes so quickly Shiro couldn’t decipher it before it was gone. “There must be some—”

“I say we drop him on the nearest uninhabited planet and wait for Zarkon to come pick him up.” Keith was on his feet again. Shouts of agreement rang out.

“No Galra prince could be an ally of Voltron!”

“He’s a danger to us all.”

“Now, if we could all…” Coran started to speak but was quickly shouted over.

“Every moment he spends here is another moment too long!”

“Please,” Lotor interjected, his voice barely audible. “I do not ask for your trust or your alliance, I simply want a safe place—”

“He can’t be trusted!”

The shouts grew louder and more insistent. Even Keith was drowned out by the intensity of the rest of the gathering. Hunk looked fully concerned now, Lance frowned at Keith, Allura and Pidge were both on their feet arguing, and Matt looked like he was trying to turn invisible, a distant look in his eyes.

“Nothing but bad blood in him.”

“His very existence jeopardizes our entire cause!”

“All right, all right!” Coran pounded his fists on the table. Immediate silence fell over the meeting room. Several Coalition members had risen to their feet, and they now sat back in their chairs. “If we could be civil, please. I understand that we are all concerned about the risks—”

“We can’t afford unnecessary risks,” the Blade from earlier rasped.

“—And all of your concerns are valid and appreciated.” Coran continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “The final decision—”

“What does the black paladin think we should do?” The alien Pidge had been arguing with spoke up, piercing Shiro with brilliant crystal eyes.

Shiro felt his breath freeze in his throat. The entire room was deathly silent, every eye fixed on him. Keith’s angry glare, the Olkarian rebel’s hesitant hope, the unwavering coldness from the Blade of Marmora. Even Matt’s tired, distant, but inherently trusting gaze seemed to weigh tons on Shiro’s shoulders.

They wanted him to make the decision. Him, the head of Voltron, and somehow now the leader of the Coalition.

They didn’t know. They didn’t know about Naxzela, about the decision Shiro had made, the danger he had put his entire team—the entire galaxy—in, because he had made the wrong call.

And now they wanted him to make this call too.

Lotor’s gaze added to the weight, the crushing uncertainty. They weren’t pleading, exactly; they still held that composed confidence, but there was more to it now. A sort of finality, a challenge. Destroy Lotor, or destroy the Coalition’s faith in him?

“I…” Shiro found his voice, finally breaking the silence. “I think we… we cannot trust Lotor. We can’t afford him the protections and freedoms we would give to an ally or member of the Coalition. For our own safety, and for that of the galaxy, it’s a risk we can’t take.”

Several nods greeted his words. There was no disagreement from any corner of the table, and only disappointed resignation from Lotor.

“Then the final decision?” said the Olkarian rebel. The room seemed to hold its breath, and Shiro knew he was holding his.

Coran looked at Shiro. They held eye contact for just a few moments, and the decision was made there.

“We all seem to be in agreement,” Coran said, turning back to the table. “There will be no alliance with Prince Lotor, nor any sort of negotiations or special protections from the Coalition.”

“Good,” rasped the Blade of Marmora, rising to his feet. Ripples of agreement ran through the assembly.

“Thank you all for coming,” Coran said as the energy in the room began to shift. Coalition members rose from their seats and made their way to the doors. Shiro fought the tide, crossing the room and sliding into an empty chair next to Matt.

“You okay?” he asked. Matt glanced over. His eyes still looked distant, and dark lines circled underneath them.

“I’m fine,” he said, sounding more alert than he looked. “Just keep thinking about…” His voice trailed off, and he glanced over at Lotor.

“What are we going to do with him?” Keith’s sharp tone echoed in the nearly-empty room. “Just let him go so he can run back to his secret base and plot his revenge?”

“I have nowhere to run to,” Lotor said, his voice cool and controlled. “Zarkon destroyed everything I had.”

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you made yourself an enemy of every living thing in the galaxy,” Keith hissed.

Lotor met and held Keith’s gaze. Tension burned between them, Keith’s fiery anger and Lotor’s cold stubbornness.

“Keith.”

Shiro had spoken his name quietly, but his voice was covered by a louder, firmer one behind him. He looked over his shoulder and saw Kolivan in the doorway. His mask was activated, but his long, white braid hung over his shoulder.

“We must leave. Come.”

“Now?” Shiro got to his feet with Keith. “But we just got back from a battle.”

“There are always more battles,” Kolivan said. “The Blade can never rest, paladin.”

Keith crossed the room, glancing back at Shiro once.

“Be safe, Keith,” Shiro said. Pidge scurried across the room to give him a hug, and Shiro wanted to follow her, but something held him back.

Keith waved, then followed Kolivan out of the room. The doors slid shut, leaving the few occupants alone together.

There were eight of them now. The five paladins, Coran, Matt, and Lotor. The Galra prince was still cuffed to his chair, and he cast a furtive glance around the room. After several moments of long silence, Lotor spoke.

“What are you going to do with me?”

There was no immediate answer. Shiro looked around at everyone else, just to find that everyone was doing the same. Slowly, Matt rose to his feet.

“Permission to speak openly?”

“You are always welcome to speak your mind, Matt,” Coran said gently.

“Right. I was just thinking that…” Matt flicked his hands over the table, pulling up a hologram screen and tapping a few buttons. “Well, I heard this transmission from one of the Galra frequencies, about Lotor.” He touched one last spot on his hologram, and the audio clip played for all of them.

“Attention all Galra soldiers. Prince Lotor has been declared an enemy of the emperor Zarkon and guilty of treason. All soldiers are ordered to kill this traitor and his accomplices on sight. Repeat, kill on sight.”

Matt paused the transmission again. He spoke quietly, his words only for the paladins and Coran. They clustered around the hologram, keeping the discussion quiet and out of Lotor’s earshot.

“There’s no doubt that Lotor really is a fugitive of the empire now, just like we are. Zarkon’s got a bounty on his head, just like he’s got on mine. Maybe we’re not fighting for the same thing, but we’re definitely fighting against the same thing.”

“You don’t think we should accept his offer,” Pidge said, incredulous.

“No, I don’t.” Matt absentmindedly flicked his hologram. The blue light cast his face in long shadows, making him look even more tired than before. “I agree with Shiro. That would be a stupid idea. But I also think it would be a bad idea to hand him over to Zarkon, and I can’t in a good conscience sentence him to death, when he’s no different than I am. He just happened to be born on the other side.”

“So, what, we should just let him go free?” Allura sounded unconvinced.

“No—I don’t know.” Matt closed his hologram screen and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, guys. You’re Voltron, not me.”

“No, you’ve got a point,” Hunk said. “Handing him over to Zarkon is literally a death sentence, and that’s not something we can do. That’s not what we stand for.”

“We can’t just let him go,” Shiro said. “Either Zarkon will catch him eventually, and he’ll end up dead anyway, or he’ll do anything to stay away from Zarkon and hurt anyone who gets in his way.”

“And either way, we’ll still end up being the indirect cause of more death and suffering.” Lance leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. “Well, that’s a mess.”

“We can’t offer him any sort of counter offer or special protections,” Coran said. “The decision was nonnegotiable.”

“Right,” Allura agreed.

“Right,” Shiro echoed, his mind turning. “No protection from the Coalition. That’s what you said, wasn’t it?”

“I believe those were my words, yes.”

“You didn’t say anything about Voltron specifically, though.” Shiro set his hand on the table, gesturing in the air. “And you said no special protections—nothing about the usual protection we’d offer to a prisoner of war.”

“You want us to take him prisoner?” Lance’s voice had a thread of surprise to it, but agreement too.

“Just until the war is over,” Shiro said. “Or we find a better alternative.”

He looked around at their faces, at all these people who trusted him to make the plans, make the decisions. Things he didn’t know he should be trusted with, but kept making anyway.

“I think that sounds like a good idea,” Matt said.

“I agree,” Hunk added.

“Me too,” Lance said, and Pidge nodded.

“I’m not sure it will work for a permanent solution,” Coran admitted, “but it is definitely preferable to any of our other options.”

All but one. They all needed to agree on this; Shiro wasn’t going to override someone else’s opinion again, not after he’d ignored Lance on Naxzela. Which he still needed to apologize for, as soon as they had this all cleared up.

“Allura?”

She was quiet for a long, heartstopping moment, and then she spoke. “I don’t like the idea of Lotor living aboard the Castle, but I dislike even more so the idea of him being held anywhere else. I’m in, but only if he stays here, under all of our watchful eyes.”

“Sounds good to me,” Shiro said, and everyone echoed their agreement.

“All right, then.” Coran straightened up. “Shiro, would you mind?”

“Right.” He was done. He was all, all done with being the leader.

He squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, walked over to where Lotor still waited at the other end of the room.

“Prince Lotor, you are now a prisoner of war, to be held onboard the Castle of Lions until further notice.”


	2. Lotor Is Still In His Room

Four days.

That was how long Lotor had been stuck inside this room. It was admittedly spacious, with a comfortable bed, plenty of space to walk around, and a bathroom attached. A few storage compartments held odds and ends, or were empty, or contained some extra blankets and pillows. They gave him two extra changes of clothes, too, simple garments that were plain but comfortable.

As far as prisons went, this wasn’t a bad one. The room was simple, but nice. Not as nice as some rooms the prince of the Galra empire had occupied, of course, but far nicer than any that a prisoner of the empire would be held in.

No, he couldn’t complain about the room, about the prison itself. What unnerved him to his core was that he couldn’t leave.

That was the point of being a prisoner—a lack of freedom. Lotor knew this. Yet it bothered him deeply, and every time he palmed the panel beside the door, every time he heard the computerized voice say Access denied, the apprehension inside of him twisted further.

It was ironic. This was saving his life, and he hated every moment of it.

He couldn’t escape. He didn’t want to; where would he go? Coming to Voltron at all had been his very last resort, and it had failed almost entirely. Becoming a prisoner of war had not been his intention, but at least they hadn’t killed him on sight. That was more than the Galra were offering at this point.

So instead of doing the usual prisoner things, like planning an escape or plotting his revenge—because he had no reason to do either—he sat on his bed and listened.

Voltron had been in a battle. Explosions and laser blasts had been his soundtrack for nearly an hour, but it was gone now. He assumed Voltron had won. He was still alive, after all.

He stayed on his bed for nearly an hour after that, letting his mind wander. There wasn’t much to think about that he hadn’t already overthought, beating down the same mental paths over and over again. Eventually, he was saved from utter boredom by a knock on his door.

Lotor scrambled off of his bed, then took a moment to compose himself. He brushed imaginary dust from his clothes, smoothing out the wrinkles and snags that had occurred in the last hour, and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Come in,” he called, after feeling decently presentable. He didn’t need to impress his captors, but all the same, he wanted to keep what few shreds of dignity he had left.

The door to his room slid open, and the yellow paladin filled the entry way. He was no longer wearing his armor, but Lotor had come to recognize all of the paladins even in their casual attire. This one went by Hunk, although Lotor couldn’t tell whether that was his real name or just a nickname.

“Hey man,” Hunk said. In his hands, he carried a tray loaded with some sort of small, blue-ish discs. Sweet, warm smells wafted across the room. “I stress-baked like, way too many cookies. You want some?”

Hunk held out the tray, and Lotor tentatively took one of the discs—cookies—from the top. They were warm and crumbly in his fingers.

“They’re really good, or at least I think so,” Hunk said. “The others refused to eat any because of the last time I made this recipe, but I’m like, I swear they’re not scaultrite substitutes this time, they actually taste like something you should be eating, and they like, fall apart in your hand because they’re so soft.”

Lotor popped a piece of the cookie that had fallen off into his mouth. It tasted almost exactly like it smelled—warm and sweet and with just enough to spice to keep the sweetness from becoming overpowering. They were really good, just like Hunk had said. Lotor was discovering that just about everything Hunk made was really good.

His face must have showed his enjoyment of the cookie, because Hunk beamed. “You like them?”

Lotor nodded. “They’re very good, thank you.”

“Have as many as you want,” Hunk said. Lotor stuck the rest of the cookie in his mouth and reached for a second one. Hunk sat down cross-legged on the floor, setting the tray of cookies on the floor in front of him. Lotor hesitated for a moment, then mirrored his position.

The paladins, and occasionally the princess and her advisor, had all been in his room before, whether to bring him food or clothing or just to check on him in general—he didn’t know where they thought he would go, but they kept up a guard anyway—but this was the first time one of them had actually come for no real reason. And here was the yellow paladin, sitting across from him, on the floor, seemingly with no intentions of moving.

“Cooking is kind of a therapy thing for me,” Hunk was saying, taking a bite of his own cookie. “Even as a kid, I’d just cook whenever I got worked up about something, and it always helped me cool off a bit and then I’d have something to eat afterwards too, which is always a bonus. And battles are always stressful, so I cook a lot after them to begin with, but this one is even worse, ‘cause Lance is in the pods and I know Coran said it’s not a hugely dangerous injury like it was last time he had to go in one and he’ll be good as new in a couple hours, but I’m still worried about him, you know? Like, he’s my best friend, and he went and broke his arm and smashed up his face a bit and it just freaked me out, so I didn’t pay attention while I was baking and made like, four dozen cookies.”

Lotor watched Hunk as he rambled, nibbling a cookie. He could feel the nervousness radiating off of the paladin. There was always an edge of distrust with any of the paladins when they were around him, but it seemed different with Hunk today.

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you all of this.” Hunk turned a cookie over in his fingers. “I mean, like, it’s obviously because I’m anxious to the max right now and everyone’s super busy with their own stuff so I just kind of ended up here. Not to say you’re my last choice to talk to or anything, of course, I didn’t mean that like an insult.”

“I’m your prisoner,” Lotor observed drily. “I’m not offended.”

“Okay, good.” Hunk crammed the cookie he’d been holding into his mouth, taking a few seconds to respond again. “That sounds so harsh, though. Like, our prisoner? Dang. You’re not, like, a horrible guy, other than the couple times you tried to kill us, but we were trying to kill you too, so I’m not sure if that even counts. So if it doesn’t, it’s like, we barely even know each other, so who knows if you’re actually a bad dude or whatever? Maybe you’re actually really chill. You seem pretty chill. I mean, I’ve been rambling for the last ten minutes and you’ve just been calmly eating cookies and nodding, so you’ve gotta be at least somewhat chill, right?”

Lotor blinked once, then took a bite of cookie. “You make really good cookies.”

“Thanks man,” Hunk said. He pushed the tray closer to Lotor, spinning it around to offer the last one to him. “All yours. There’s a million more down in the kitchen for everyone else, and more for you if you want them with dinner later.”

“Sure,” Lotor said, reaching down for the cookie. As he did, Hunk moved his hand, and their fingers accidentally brushed.

He didn’t realize what had happened until a split second after it did. First it was a crackling in his ears, a sort of static fuzz in his mind that warned him about what was happening before the rest of the feeling kicked in. A wave of anxiety washed over him, heavy and twisting in his chest. Simultaneously, a twinge of pain ran up his forearm.

Lotor jerked his fingers back. His breath was unsteady and his hands trembled. He’d been stupid, he hadn’t meant to let his guard down this far—

“You’re hurt,” he blurted out, before he could stop himself and regain control of his wildly spinning mind. Stupid, stupid, why did you say that? Now he’s going to know…

Hunk’s eyebrows went up. “What? No, I’m not—I mean, sort of, but it’s honestly just a scratch, and it’s not that bad…” He pushed up his sleeve, showing the edge of a bandage wrapped around his arm. “I showed it to Coran, and he said it would be okay to just let it heal the good old-fashioned way, plus the pods are full with Lance and the other rebels who were injured, so even if I wanted to I couldn’t use one, which I don’t. Like, the pods freak me out? How do they even work? I always ask Coran but he’s super cryptic and all ‘it’s a form of technology that science can’t explain!’ and like, what does that even mean? What if something malfunctions? What if it gets stuck or something and we can’t even fix it because we don’t know how it works? You’d think they’d at least have some plans lying around or something.”

The entire speech only took up the space of about twenty ticks, which was pretty impressive in Lotor’s opinion. Hunk stopped to take a breath.

“Sorry, I keep rambling,” Hunk apologized. “I’ll get this under control, I promise.”

“It’s all right,” Lotor said. The rambling was fine with him. It had distracted Hunk from asking how exactly Lotor had known that he was hurt.

Because that was a question Lotor was not ready to answer.


	3. Lotor Is Still Mostly In His Room, But Also Out Of It For A Little While

“Our prisoner is bored,” Pidge announced as she dropped the tray she was carrying onto the dining table. A series of faces looked up at her from around the table, where breakfast was still in progress.

Lance blinked, a spoonful of food goo halfway to his mouth. “What, Lotor?”

“Unless Sendak’s still hiding in the vents somewhere, Lotor’s our only prisoner,” Pidge said sarcastically.

“I know that.” Lance frowned at her.

“How do you know he’s bored?” Shiro asked calmly, cutting off the argument before it started. Pidge huffed in response.

“I don’t know, maybe it was the banging of his head against the wall that gave it away? Or possibly him chanting ‘so bored, so bored, so bored,’ in rhythm with the headbanging.” Pidge flopped into her seat.

Shiro raised one eyebrow.

“He was still in bed when I brought him breakfast,” she said, then gestured to the tray in front of her. Normally, the Galra prince made at least a little bit of effort to look presentable when one of them brought him food, but this morning, he’d barely brushed his hair out of his face before the door slid open. “And he didn’t finish his supper last night.”

“Maybe he was just tired,” Lance suggested. “And not hungry.”

“He went to bed early last night, though,” Hunk chimed in. “I checked on him right before I went to bed and he was already asleep.”

“I’m no expert,” Pidge said, snagging a bowl of food goo and digging in, “but I don’t think Galra normally sleep for twelve hours a day.”

“I want to sleep for twelve hours,” Matt said with his mouth full.

Shiro rubbed the side of his head with one hand. “Are there more books or something we can bring him?”

“If we bring him any more reading material, he’s going to turn into a book himself,” Lance said. “I brought up two armloads of them just a couple days ago.”

“I don’t think that would solve it,” Hunk said, pushing at his food goo. “I don’t… think he’s just bored.”

“What?” Lance looked over at him. “Why not?”

“I mean, yes, he’s probably really bored,” Hunk said quickly. “But the other day, right after that battle when you were in the pods afterwards? I brought him some cookies and we hung out for awhile—”

Shiro frowned. “Alone?”

Hunk looked uncomfortable. “Well, yeah, but like, everybody was busy and we always go to Lotor’s room alone anyway, so I didn’t think it would be a big deal. And anyway, all he did was eat cookies and talk a little bit. I think he’s… I’m pretty sure he’s lonely. He’s not super talkative, but when you’re not aggressive towards him, he’s really nice and stuff, and I think he’s kind of a people person? I don’t know, I just get that vibe from him. He seems like a social guy, so it’s probably hard for him to be alone all the time.”

“I don’t like that you were alone,” Shiro said, “so next time, at least let someone know when you’re planning to spend any amount of time with him, okay?”

“Okay,” Hunk said, poking at his food goo. “Sorry, Shiro.”

“But back to your observation,” Pidge said around a mouthful of goo. “What are you proposing? I agree, he needs something to do other than sleep, read, and stare at his walls, but… what?”

“Like, I don’t know, just hanging out with him? Maybe he could come help me in the kitchen for a little bit sometime, or something like that.”

“I could bring in the video game system,” Pidge suggested, getting on board with the idea. “Maybe he’ll be better at it than Lance is.”

“Hey!” Lance looked offended.

“I could find him some chores to do around the castle,” Coran suggested. Pidge glanced up at saw him in the doorway of the dining room, although she hadn’t noticed him come in. “The healing pods still need cleaning from the last battle.”

“Better him than me,” Lance said.

Allura had been silent during the entire conversation, but now she spoke up. “I’m not a fan of him being free in the castle.”

“He couldn’t be alone at any point,” Shiro put in. “Someone would have to watch him at all times.”

“Two people,” Allura amended.

Hunk nodded. “I can live with that. Just… get the guy out of that room.”

“I’m with Hunk,” Matt added. “He’s starting to look like a bug that some kid caught and decided to keep as a pet in a glass jar.”

“Hey, I was good at keeping bugs as pets,” Pidge said, pointing her spoon at her brother. “I always made sure they had the right kind of food to eat and kept them in a comfortable environment.”

“You were better than most kids,” Matt admitted. “But all the same, sometimes they’d still just die for no reason.”

“This is a disturbing analogy.” Shiro rubbed his face again. “Lotor’s not going to die in a glass jar.”

“Right,” Pidge agreed, getting to her feet again. “Because I have a plan.”

 

Pidge led the way down a long, typically unused hall in the castle. Behind her, Lotor padded along softly, with Hunk bringing up the rear.

“…and we just thought, hey, maybe Lotor would wanna check it out, y’know?” Hunk was saying. “Just in case you were bored or something.”

Pidge pressed her hand against a panel on the wall. The door slid open with a pneumatic hiss. “Ta-da! Welcome to the rec room.”

Coran had helped them set the room up. It was an unused storage room originally, but they’d repainted the walls to a pale green—anything other than the pervasive white and glowing blue of the entire castle. A bookshelf lined one wall, packed with a variety of board and card games, while a pile of beanbag chairs were thrown in the center of the floor. The video game system she and Lance had rigged up had been relocated here as well.

“The lounge is great and all,” Pidge explained, glancing over her shoulder. Lotor stood in the doorway, looking around with a sort of contained curiosity. “But sometimes we just need something a little more cozy and earth-like.”

“There’s this store at the space mall that sells all sorts of weird old Earth stuff,” Hunk said, tapping the glass side of a lava lamp. “Like this. I haven’t seen one of these things since I was a kid.”

“And beanbag chairs.” Pidge dropped onto a blue beanbag with a satisfying plop. Hunk sat beside her, beckoning Lotor over to join them. The Galra prince perched hesitantly on the edge of one beanbag.

He very clearly was not relaxed, but at least he didn’t seem bored. They’d work up to the relaxing thing.

“You ever play any sorts of video games?” Pidge asked, turning on the system and plugging in two controllers.

“Video games?” Lotor repeated.

“Yeah, like—” The system made its startup noise as Pidge selected a game from the small stack of choices. “We’ll just show you. Then you can play Hunk first. He’ll go easy on you.”

Pidge explained the concept of the game to Lotor while she and Hunk played one level to illustrate. Lotor watched with interest, his sharp, yellow eyes taking everything in with an analytical gaze. By the time Pidge handed her controller over to him, she already was getting the feeling that he was going to be some serious competition.

Her feeling was correct.

Lotor went about the game with a sort of precise, deliberate strategy, analyzing each move and reacting with calculated ease. It took him a few minutes to get used to the controls in his hands, but after that, he was terrifying. Hunk never stood a chance.

“Geez, Lotor,” Hunk said as the screen darkened. Player one wins! The words flashed. “Have you played this before?”

“I have not,” Lotor said. The ghost of a smile plays at his lips, showing pointed teeth.

“My turn.” Pidge clapped her hands together once, and Hunk tossed his controller over to her.

“Watch out for her,” Hunk said. “She’s sneaky in this game. Always attacks when you’re not expecting it.”

“Hey, don’t give him hints,” Pidge complained, tapping a button to start up the next level. She’d been playing this game since she was little, when she and Matt would camp out in front of their TV on Saturday afternoons and battle each other for hours until one of their parents would make them turn it off and go outside instead. She had more than one trick up her sleeve, but all the same, she wanted all the extra edge she could get against Lotor.

As the match started, Pidge struck first. Lotor was quick to block, taking no damage as he circled back out of her reach. For a few moments, they circled each other, occasionally striking out just to be blocked, neither of them taking any hits. Pidge studied Lotor’s defense, the careful, planned movements he took, the almost rhythmic attacks against her onscreen character.

He had a pattern. Every time he struck, his defense slipped as his character moved forward into attack range. So Pidge waited patiently as he circled her, and then when she noticed the slip, she attacked.

Pidge brought her character forwards to attack Lotor, but as she did, his guard went back up. Her attack missed. Lotor countered, a fast and savage blur, and Pidge smashed her fingers against the buttons as she backpedaled furiously, finally getting out of range and putting up her shield.

Half of her health points were gone, and Lotor was still untouched.

“What the quiznak?” Pidge screeched. Hunk was shouting, but Pidge tuned him out and went after Lotor’s character. They didn’t separate again, locked in a frenzy of attacks, Lotor’s health points dropping, and then Pidge’s, and then Lotor’s again. Everything was a blur of attacks and counter attacks, until the screen darkened.

Player one wins!

“How?!” Pidge turned to Lotor, incredulous. “You’ve played this before!”

“I haven’t, I swear,” Lotor said. His face was flushed and his eyes darted between her and Hunk nervously, but he was grinning all the same.

“Nobody but Matt’s ever beat her before, dude,” Hunk said. “That was crazy.”

Pidge stared at Lotor for another second, then handed the controller to Hunk. “You play another round with him. I’m getting Lance in here. He needs to see this.”

“Get Matt too, while you’re at it,” Hunk suggested. “We gotta find out who the true champion is.”

“I’m playing him again when I get back,” Pidge said. Maybe it had been beginner’s luck. That was probably all it had been.

 

  
It hadn’t been beginner’s luck.

Matt was no longer the undisputed champion of Donut Zombie Cops IV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: Donut Zombie Cops IV is a minigame Quincy and I and two friends are making, as part of a slightly larger game... we've never actually made games before so who knows what'll happen at this point, but it's fun to work on together. And to make references to. XP


	4. He's Not In This One, But You Can Assume That Lotor Is Still In His Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sup friends it’s Quincy here, bringing you chapter four of Lovan: Beginnings and this ridiculously long author’s note! Buckle up, because this is so long that I split it into bullet points.
> 
> 1\. Season five was wild, my guys. Both Cardi and I have seen it at this point, but we’ve already had a direction in mind with this series, and we’re not changing it to fit canon. So henceforth, this is non-canon compliant! Just because a character was or wasn’t in season five doesn’t mean they will or won’t be in Lovan, and other things like character backstories aren’t necessarily the same either.
> 
> 2\. Also Shiro isn’t a clone. I’ve been a believer in the clone Shiro theory since season three, but it was just… too much for this fic. So he’s himself! No clone drama here.
> 
> 3\. Canon-typical violence in the chapter ahead. I’m not really sure where the violence is going to go in the rest of this fic, so if it ever gets worse than canon-typical, I’ll warn you guys in the author’s note before that chapter. Otherwise, expect some fairly mild stuff (especially coming from me).
> 
> 4\. Last note: my other fic, Shifting Sands, is canon in this series! There is a small reference to it in this chapter, not so much that you need to read it to understand, but if you happen to have read it, you’ll know where it came from. There will be bigger references later on in the series, though!  
> And that’s it! Thanks so much for all of the comments, everyone. Cardi responds to you guys, but know that I read and love every single one of your comments. You give me the inspiration to keep writing. Hope you enjoy the chapter!

The sounds of the Galra warship filled the air around him. The creaking of metal, the hum of equipment, the distant clang of sentries patrolling nearby hallways. All sounds he’d been accustomed to for years now, easily fading to the back of his senses as he crept through the heart of the ship.

“All clear on the east side.” Lance’s voice crackled over the comms.

“Command center secured,” Pidge added. “Hunk’s standing guard.”

“The west side is also clear,” came Allura’s voice.

“Good,” Shiro said softly, crouched behind an overhang. The background noise all around kept him on edge, a little extra cautious and alert to every unusual sound. He just had to be careful to not let the edge turn into panic. He peeked out around the corner into the open storage bay before walking into the open room. “All clear down here too.”

“Weird,” Hunk muttered over the comms. “Where is everyone?”

“With me, earlier,” Lance snarked. “I had to take out like, twenty of them, on my own.”

“That number gets higher every time you repeat it,” Pidge said.

“Alright, alright.” Shiro cut off the bantering before it could escalate. “Everyone just stay on guard and stick to the mission. Pidge? We good to go?”

“Just have to run one more check,” Pidge was saying, and then something else caught Shiro’s attention. It was more of a presence than a sound, something pricking at the back of his consciousness. A familiar tingle of electricity ran down his spine.

That was all the warning he needed. He whirled around, arm glowing at his side. Across the room, a shadowy figure dematerialized in front of his eyes. Immediately, Shiro tensed, whirling, searching for the figure somewhere else around him—

—There, on his left. He saw the yellow glow behind its beaked mask, the drape of its cloak seeming to disappear into shadowy tendrils. Shiro raised his arm, charged forward, and then it was gone again just as quickly.

He felt it stronger that time, closer, an electric crackle on the back of his neck. He spun, his breathing ragged in his ears, his arm humming, lit and dangerous.

The druid was behind him, clawed fingers outstretched. Shiro swung his hand towards the thing’s face, and it dematerialized into wisps of darkness.

“Guys, it’s not all clear after all.” Shiro breathed hard, spinning, trying to keep his eyes on the druid. It kept disappearing every time he caught sight of it. “One of Haggar’s druids—”

He felt the telltale buzz of energy on the back of his neck, running down his spine, and he whirled around again. He couldn’t stop moving for even a moment, but every time he landed a hit on the druid, it simply disappeared and reformed somewhere else.

The voices of his teammates blended into the background noise. He couldn’t afford to listen to them right now, even when they occasionally called his name and distracted him for a fraction of a second. A fraction of a second that slowed his attack, or dragged his movements just a touch too slow, letting the druid get the upper hand for just a moment.

Why was it even here? This was supposed to be a normal Galra warship; a few dozen sentries, some Galra commanders, maybe a few prisoners and some new info for team Voltron to bring home for Pidge and Matt to analyze. Not one of Haggar’s… things.

A ball of energy formed in the druid’s hand. Shiro jerked to the side as the blast of light passed his head, close enough to momentarily blind him. He couldn’t see the druid, but that wasn’t entirely new. He spun, trying to keep his arm raised, trying to stay on guard against something that could just disappear and reappear behind him.

He swung his arm at the dark figure in front of him. It dematerialized once again, and Shiro prepared himself for another strike. It was nonstop, a constant fluidity of turn-duck-strike-again. He didn’t know how long he could keep it up, searching for an opening, hoping for a lucky shot—

“Shiro, we’re coming to you.” Lance’s voice sounded in his ear, just as the druid disappeared once again. Just for a second, Shiro’s attention was torn between the comms and the fight, and that second was all the time the druid needed.

The crackle of energy came from behind him again, and this time, he couldn’t turn fast enough. He felt something hit his back, and for a moment, that was all he was really aware of. The background noise dropped away, leaving an empty, intense silence, and Shiro was sharply aware of his ragged breathing. A sharp, numb feeling spread over his back, something tasted burnt on his tongue, and for a moment, he thought he felt something clamped around his human wrist.

There wasn’t anything on his wrist. He knew that. He needed to stay in the present; a panic attack would not be helpful right now.

The numb feeling seemed to run through his whole body, chasing the air out of his lungs, the strength out of his knees, and he crumpled to the floor, struggling to breathe. The glow of his arm went out, and he couldn’t get it to come back on.

A brush of air passed his face, and the druid reformed in front of him, staring down. He had to get up, had to get his arm to work, had to…

He felt exhausted. He couldn’t move, couldn’t get off of the ground, could barely raise his head to look at the druid’s masked face. He needed to move, needed to get out of the way…

The druid raised its hand. Another ball of energy formed in its palm, glowing and purple. He had to move now, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t force himself to get up, couldn’t summon the energy to get out of the way, and he just stayed there instead, staring up at the thing that was about to kill him.

A blast rang out, reverberating in Shiro’s ears, and the druid disappeared in an instant. Shiro stared at the space that it had just been in, his mind trying to process what was going on, and then Lance was at his side. The red bayard dematerialized in his hand.

“Hey, hey, Shiro.” He cupped Shiro’s face in both hands, and Shiro tried to figure out when he’d gotten there. “Stay with me. What happened?”

“Hnn,” Shiro said, which was possibly not the most reassuring thing Lance could’ve heard right then. Concern knit the red paladin’s eyebrows.

“Okay, it’s going to be all right. Just stay with me, got it? Eyes open, keep breathing, just like you’re doing right now. We’ll get you back to the castle, Coran can help…”

“’M okay,” Shiro managed to get out. Lance started to look a little less scared, so Shiro kept going. “Think… it was just some sort of… stunning spell, or something.”

“Let’s still get Coran to check you over, okay?” Lance glanced around the room once before looking back at Shiro. “Do you think you can walk?”

Shiro didn’t know. He braced one hand against the ground, pushing himself onto his knees. Lance offered his help, hands hovering over Shiro’s arms in case he lost his balance. Shiro swayed, and Lance looped his arm over his shoulders, helping him to his feet.

“I got him,” Lance said, speaking into his comms. “He’s not great, but he’s responsive. Heading to you, Allura.”

“Good,” Allura said, her voice fuzzy in Shiro’s ear. “Pidge, what’s the status?”

“Ninety percent,” Pidge said. “Just a few more dobashes and we’ll be good to go. Lance, you have to get to the hangar by the time this file uploads. We’ll have a few ticks to get our lions out through the doors before everything goes on lockdown.”

“On my way.” Lance half walked, half dragged Shiro along as they made their way down the halls Shiro had just come from. Shiro’s mind was dragging as well as his feet, slow and unsteady. Everything about him felt off, but he chalked it up to the lingering effects of the druid’s spell. It would go away eventually.

By the time they reached the hangar, Shiro could walk on his own. His legs were still unsteady, but he could manage a slow pace without losing his balance. Matt was already there, a data pad in one hand to provide back-up for Pidge.

“Hey, hotstuff,” Matt quipped. “You okay to fly?”

“I’ll be fine,” Shiro said. “It’s not like we have any other choice. Somebody has to fly the black lion.”

Lance frowned. “How about Matt rides back with you?”

“If it makes you feel better,” Shiro relented. He really was feeling steadier, and he was pretty sure he could manage flying the lion back to the castle. But if it kept Lance from worrying, he’d bring Matt along. It would give the two of them some time together, anyway. He saw less and less of Matt every day, with the stress of the coalition and the rebels constantly pulling them in different directions.

Before Lance had a chance to reply, the hangar doors started to open. Pidge, Allura, and Hunk ran in, all breathless and panting.

“We gotta go,” Pidge shouted, waving at the rest of them. “Come on, come on, let’s go.”

“That’s our cue,” Matt said, putting a hand on Shiro’s shoulder and steering him towards the black lion.

Shiro wanted to shrug his hand off, determined to make it to his lion on his own, but they didn’t have time for him to be that stubborn. Maybe later.

The black lion dropped her barrier and then her head, lowering the entry ramp. Shiro sprinted into the cockpit as fast as he could manage, Matt right on his heels. He slid into the pilot’s chair, controls rising up to meet his hands. Matt gripped the back of his chair as Shiro guided the lion out of the hangar.

“They know we’re here,” Lance was saying over the comms. “Just take out as many of the fighters as you need to, and get out of range and head back to the castle.”

Shiro started to open his mouth, about to give some order, and then stopped. Lance had it covered.

Laser blasts exploded outside. Shiro maneuvered around them, activating his lion’s jawblade to take out a few of the fighters nearby.

“There’s one on your tail,” Matt said, pointing over Shiro’s shoulder. Shiro stiffened slightly, but didn’t respond. The lion whirled around, firing a shot at the fighter behind them. It missed, and Shiro sent Black spiraling into a barrel roll that lasted a little longer than exactly necessary, before pulling up and slicing the fighter in half with the jawblade.

Matt’s fingers were clenched around the back of the seat, his knuckles turning white.

“Got it,” Shiro said mildly.

They’d pulled ahead of the rest of the fighters now, which weren’t pursuing them any further. The Galra must have figured that their small crew of fighters wasn’t going to be able to take down Voltron anyway, and decided to save their fighting power for later.

“Coran, get ready to start a wormhole jump to another system as soon as everyone is in their hangars.” Allura’s voice came over the comms, and Coran’s affirmative followed a moment later.

Shiro felt a twist of something in his stomach again. The rest of the team was picking up his slack again.

The comms lapsed into silence as the rest of the paladins headed for the castle. Matt was quiet behind Shiro, and then reached forward to shut off the comm link.

“What are you doing?” Shiro asked, his voice sharper than he meant it to sound.

“I thought maybe we could talk.” Matt folded his arms. “What’s the deal? You’re always touchy lately.”

“I’m not touchy.” Shiro stared straight ahead, out of the viewport at the castle, rapidly approaching. He was being touchy. He knew he was.

“If there’s something going on, you can always talk to me, okay?” Matt’s voice was gentle, but Shiro’s shoulders still felt tense all the same.

“Thanks, Matt,” Shiro said, and that’s all he could get out. There was more he wanted to say—I’m sorry I’m such a jerk; the team deserves a better leader; I’ll get it together, I promise—but it stayed locked in his head where no one else could touch it.

The black lion touched down in the hangar. Matt looked at Shiro for a moment longer, something unspoken in his tired eyes, and Shiro felt a pang of guilt. They never had a chance to talk, not since they’d found Matt, really. There was always so much left unspoken between them.

“Shiro,” Matt said, “are you okay?”

Shiro forced a smile onto his face. “I’m okay, Matt. Don’t know what that druid hit me with, but I’ll be okay.”

“Right.” Matt held out his hand. “Let’s get you to Coran.”


	5. Lotor Is Out Of His Room, And Very Much Wishes To Go Back In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having so much fun with these chapter titles...

“Now you’ll have to add the eggs, one at a time…”

“Like this?”

“Perfect. You’re a natural.”

The sounds of the kitchen were a pleasant change for Lotor. Hunk had invited him to help with dinner, which Lotor quickly agreed to. He had little to no experience with cooking, but anything outside of his room was a welcome diversion.

A pot simmered on the stove while Hunk leaned over the counter, gesturing to the ingredients laid out with his wooden spoon. “After you have those all blended in, I’ll help you add the flour and milk. It’s a little tricky, because you’ve got to alternate between the two.”

Lotor cracked the last egg into the bowl, then picked up the wire whisk lying on the counter. Hunk had already shown him how to use it, so he didn’t need to ask for any help for this step. The yellow paladin went back to his cooking, humming softly to himself as he pulled open a storage compartment and dug through the spices stored there.

The atmosphere of the kitchen was warm, comforting. It wasn’t exactly peaceful, with the pot bubbling and Lotor’s whisk clinking against the side of the bowl and the scattering of ingredients and spills over the counters, but it was something close to it.

“Will you taste this for me?” Hunk turned around, holding a small spoon in one hand, and offered it to Lotor. On the spoon was pale, orangeish sauce. Lotor blew the steam off, then put the spoon in his mouth.

It tasted flavorful, savory with a creamy texture. Hunk watched him expectantly, and Lotor nodded as he swallowed, handing Hunk the licked-clean spoon. “It’s good. What is it?”

“Cheese, mostly,” Hunk said. “It’s just the sauce for the mac and cheese.”

“Mac and cheese,” Lotor repeated, adding the word to his vocabulary.

“Shiro’s favorite.” Hunk sprinkled a few other spices into his sauce, despite Lotor thinking it tasted fine. Then again, he didn’t know what mac and cheese was supposed to taste like. “He seemed really down when we got back from that mission, so I figured I might as well cheer him up while I de-stress. Win-win for both of us.”

“And for me,” Lotor said. “Win-win-win. I like helping you.”

Hunk beamed, and he seemed like he was about to say something else, when a voice from the doorway interrupted.

“Shiro’s favorite, huh?”

Lotor glanced up. Lance stood in the doorway, his gaze flicking over the scene in the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Hunk said. “He likes mac and cheese. Well, Garrison mac and cheese. I don’t know why. That stuff is… not fit for consumption. Don’t tell him I said that. But it’s bad.”

“I’m just going to warn you,” Lance said, sliding into a chair next to Lotor’s workspace with a quick greeting, “I think Shiro might be in bed already.”

“Already?” Hunk looked surprised. “It’s super early.”

“And he was super out of it,” Lance said. “Matt and I had to both drag him to the medbay, and he kept trying to tell us he was fine and he’d just sleep it off. It’s like he thinks there’s something wrong with being hurt.”

“Was he hurt?” Hunk asked, a note of concern in his voice. He’d moved over to where Lotor was working and started to measure out flour.

“Not as far as Coran could tell,” Lance said, his shoulders slumping slightly even though his hands went up, gesturing in exasperation. “Which is just great, because it only proved to him that he’s fine, even though he very clearly  _ isn’t _ . Like, dude, you don’t have to pretend you’re okay when you’re not. Injury isn’t a personal failure. You can ask for help.”

“Yeah, isn’t that a funny concept.” Hunk paused from adding the flour into the bowl to fix Lance with a pointed look. Lotor felt like he was missing something, but Lance seemed to get it. His face flushed, and he dropped his hands to the counter.

“That’s—It’s not the—I’m getting  _ better _ ,” Lance said, protesting something that went over Lotor’s head. He glanced between the two paladins, but neither of them offered any information. Lance caught Lotor’s eye, then said, “Anyway, you said you wouldn’t bring that up in front of anyone.”

“I didn’t bring anything up,” Hunk said mildly. He poured milk into a glass measuring bowl, sliding it over to Lotor. “Stir or pour?”

“I’ll pour.” Lotor picked up the bowl of milk, waiting for Hunk’s directions.

The yellow paladin handed the whisk to Lance. “You’re on stirring. Just beat in the milk and flour as we add them.”

Lance and Hunk lapsed into silence. Lotor had gotten used to working quietly with Hunk, but the addition of Lance changed the feeling completely. He was Hunk’s closest friend, which naturally meant that Hunk’s attention would go to him first.

Which was perfectly fine. Of course.

“You can add half of the milk now,” Hunk told him, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Lotor raised the bowl, and Lance moved the whisk aside to make room.

The quiet continued after that, punctuated by occasional instructions from Hunk. They finished mixing together the cake batter, and then Hunk split it between two separate bowls. He started digging through other compartments around the kitchen, eventually coming up with a dark brown powder.

“Check it out, Lance. Cocoa.”

Lance gasped.  _ “Dude. _ Are you freaking serious right now?”

“Very serious.” Hunk handed him the container, which Lance opened and sniffed appreciatively. “I found it on that market planet we were on the other day and tucked it away to experiment with at some point and surprise you guys with.”

“Consider me surprised,” Lance said. “And really happy. Holy quiznak, you found chocolate.”

Lotor watched the exchange with a feeling of confusion and amusement, which was something he was getting very used to. He rarely understood what the paladins were talking about, but their animated discussions over seemingly mundane things never failed to entertain.

“It tastes a little more like coffee than I was expecting,” Hunk said. “But it’s definitely cocoa-esque. I’m gonna try to make a ganache for the cake frosting.”

“Oh man, yes  _ please _ .” Lance handed the powder—cocoa—back to Hunk. “I can’t even express to you how happy I am right now. My life is complete.”

Hunk chuckled, a big, happy, warm sound. The corner of Lotor’s mouth crooked up into a grin without him meaning to at all.

Hunk measured out some of the cocoa powder and mixed it with a few other ingredients from around the kitchen, then poured the whole thing into one bowl of batter. He handed a spoon to Lotor, gesturing to the bowl.

“Stir away, my friend. I’ll get the pan ready for these to go in.”

And just like that, he turned around again and started digging through compartments. Lotor stared at his back, his mind spinning in confusion.

It was a simple figure of speech, he tried to tell himself, remembering to stir the batter in front of him. Maybe ‘friend’ was a more casual term on Earth. Hunk probably just called everyone his friend.

He called the other paladins his friends quite frequently. The other paladins often referred to each other as “my friend.” It wasn’t…

“You okay?”

Lotor’s head jerked upwards at the sound of Lance’s voice. “What?”

“Are you okay?” Lance repeated, slower, gesturing at him. “You just got a weird look on your face.”

“Oh,” Lotor said, feeling even more awkward than he had earlier. “I’m okay. Just thinking.”

Lance blinked, then shrugged. “Okay.”

Hunk plopped a round metal pan down on the counter. “Here comes the fun part! Time to put the batter in and then we get to swirl it.”

Lotor’s mind was still something of a confused haze, but he managed to follow along with Hunk’s instructions. They alternated the plain batter with the brown—cocoa—chocolate?—kind, ending up with some sort of checkered pattern. Hunk showed them how to swirl the batter together with the handle of the wooden spoon, and then let both of them have a turn while he started to tidy up the mess they’d made.

Lotor helped clean up, gathering the dirty dishes into the sink and sweeping up spilled ingredients. Behind him, Lance hummed softly to himself as he finished swirling the cake batter, perched on the edge of the counter. Next to Lotor, Hunk smiled to himself, clearly listening to Lance sing. Lotor couldn’t make out any of the words, but Hunk seemed to recognize the tune all the same.

After the kitchen was clean, Hunk put the cake in the oven. “Well, dinner’s ready, so I guess it’s time to see if Shiro really did go to bed early.”

Lance slid off the counter. Lotor glanced between the two of them. “Time for me to go back to my room, then?”

“I’ll take him back,” Lance was starting to say, and a disappointed feeling started to settle in his stomach, but then Hunk shook his head.

“I was thinking he could eat with us. He helped make it, after all.”

Lance opened his mouth, then closed it again. Lotor looked back and forth at them again.

“I mean…” Lance looked contemplative, then shrugged. “Why not?”

“Great!” Hunk beamed. “I’ll double check with Allura and give her a head’s-up, but it should be fine.” Then he stopped and looked at Lotor. “If you want to, of course.”

“I do,” Lotor said with no hesitation. He did want to. He enjoyed the times that Hunk brought him his food in his room and kept him company. Recently, the yellow paladin had started bringing his own lunch along so they could eat together. It was a definite highlight of his current uninteresting life.

All the same, he felt the tension rolling off of Lance. It wasn’t the fierce hatred he’d felt from Keith, and not exactly the cold mistrust he got from the Princess. He couldn’t exactly place the specifics of the feeling he was getting from Lance, but it wasn’t positive. He knew that much.

“Awesome.” Hunk picked up the pot of mac and cheese, then gestured to the stack of plates on the counter. “Can you guys help me carry all of this?”

If cooking with Lance in the room had been awkward, dinner ended up being downright painful.

At the head of the table, Princess Allura kept casting cold looks at Lotor. He did his best to ignore them. On the Princess’s right was Coran, who sent his own fair share of looks at Lotor, but they seemed less openly hostile. On her left sat Shiro, who looked awake, but only barely. He ate slowly, looking like he was zoning out between bites before shaking himself and smiling at whoever happened to be glancing in his direction.

On Lotor’s left, Hunk kept up a lively discussion with the others, frequently turning to Lotor to drag him into the conversation as well. Lotor appreciated the efforts, but he couldn’t help noticing the way everyone looked at him and the silence that fell every time he spoke. At this point, he would rather fade into the background.

Pidge and Matt, across the table from Hunk and Lotor, kept elbowing each other under the table every few seconds and acting like it had been someone else. Lance was on the other side of Hunk, alternating between chatting with Hunk and bantering with Pidge.

All around him, Lotor was barraged with a wide variety of feelings. Distrust from Allura and exhaustion from Shiro were top candidates. A warmer, bubbly feeling emanated from the two siblings, and from Lance to an extent, but it was tempered by an underlying sense of anxiety. Lotor had narrowed that down to coming from Matt. An uncomfortable empty feeling was present from somewhere too, but Lotor couldn’t quite figure out that one. Next to him, Hunk provided a warmer, steadier aura, which was definitely nice.

“So, Lotor,” Hunk said, and Lotor resigned himself to another uncomfortable exchange, “I imagine you’ve been to a lot of different planets in your life. Have you ever seen one that has unicorns?”

Pidge choked on her mac and cheese, and Lance started laughing. Matt took advantage of the opportunity to elbow Pidge in the ribs and then turn to stare in shock at Shiro, as though he’d been the one to elbow her. Shiro didn’t seem to be aware of what was going on at all, and Pidge was not fooled.

“Uhh…” Lotor blinked. “I’m afraid I don’t know what those are.”

“They’re mythical creatures,” Pidge said, setting down her spoon after flinging a bite of mac and cheese in her brother’s face. “Earth legend.”

“Hey, maybe they’re real,” Lance said. “We’ve seen weirder stuff here in space.”

The two started bickering once again. Lotor considered asking what these unicorns were supposed to look like, but he decided against it. Allura was already looking at him again.

A beeping sound caught his attention. Hunk glanced down at his wrist, where the sound had come from.

“That would be the cake,” Hunk said, pushing back his chair. “Lotor, want to come with me? I’ll show you how to check if it’s done.”

Lotor was already on his feet. He followed Hunk out of the dining room and down the hall to the kitchen. As the sounds of the dining room faded away, he breathed a sigh of relief. The silence of the kitchen was welcoming, as well as the warm presence from Hunk. Immediately, the tension in his shoulders started to slip away.

“So to test the cake, we just have to poke a toothpick in the center and see if it comes out clean. If it does, the cake is done. If not, it’s got a little longer to go.” Hunk offered Lotor a small wooden toothpick, and then turned to the oven to pull the cake out.

Lotor did as he instructed, then showed the toothpick to Hunk. “It’s clean.”

“Then it is time to make the frosting.” Hunk turned off the oven, then set the cake on a cooling rack and set about pulling out other ingredients.

Lotor settled back onto the seat he’d been using earlier, perched on the edge of the stool. He watched Hunk bustle around the kitchen, narrating everything he was doing. He gave Lotor instructions occasionally, pulling him into the process, but for the most part Lotor was content to watch this time.

After several minutes of watching, Lotor blurted out, “Hunk, why don’t you hate me?”

Hunk stopped in the middle of mixing his frosting. He turned around slowly, a quizzical look on his face. “I don’t know, man. I don’t really hate a lot of people, and you’re… You’re not exactly the hateable type.”

Lotor snorted. That was hardly true. “Plenty of people have managed it. The rest of your team does.”

“No, they don’t.” Hunk added more milk to his bowl. “Well, maybe Allura. But she hated Keith for awhile too, and she got over that. The rest of them… I think they just don’t trust you, mostly. They don’t hate you.”

Lotor leaned forward on his elbows, folding his hands under his chin. “But why?”

Hunk blew out all of his breath in a puff. “It’s probably different for all of them, but for me… I don’t know, Lotor. I like you. You’re easy to be around, you’re polite and helpful, you’re a good listener… You’re nice. And who knows, maybe it’s all an act. Maybe Allura’s right and you’re just trying to fool us into trusting you so you can stab us in the back and steal Voltron from under our noses.”

“No,” Lotor said, the word slipping out without a second thought. “I’m not.”

“I sincerely hope so,” Hunk said. “I like you a lot, Lotor. I think you’ve got the makings of a really good guy, and I want to be your friend. And I don’t want to think that your past is who you are.”

Lotor stared down at the counter. His emotions were a tangled mess, frustratingly complex. He  _ wasn’t _ planning to betray Hunk, or Voltron. For once, he wasn’t trying to manipulate anyone into doing what he wanted them to do.

And it felt  _ wrong _ .

The silence dragged on for a few more minutes, and then Hunk spoke up again. “Well, this is done. Ready to go back?”

“Actually…” Lotor scratched at a stain on the counter. “Could… Could I just go back to my room? I’m kind of tired.”

“Oh,” Hunk said, sounding surprised. “Sure. That’s fine. Do you want to take a piece of cake with you?”

“If you don’t mind,” Lotor said. “Thank you.”

“You helped make it,” Hunk said. “Of course I don’t mind.”

Hunk cut a thick slice of the cake and put it on a plate, then handed it to Lotor. “I’ll see you in the morning, I guess?”

Lotor nodded, then frowned. “Aren’t you supposed to walk me back?”

“Oh, right.” Hunk walked around the counter, then gestured to the doorway. “After you.”

They headed down the long hallways of the castle, footsteps echoing loudly. They were both silent, and Lotor wondered if that was his fault. His mind was still tangled with confusion and he couldn’t unravel anything enough to come up with a conversation topic.

When they reached his room, Lotor hesitated for a moment. He coughed, then finally forced the words out.

“Thank you. For teaching me to cook. And, um. Everything else.”

Hunk smiled. “You’re welcome, Lotor.”

He nodded, and then ducked into his room. The door shut behind him with a click. He stood inside, clutching his piece of cake, and he heard Hunk’s footsteps fade away down the hall.

Silence filled the air once again. Lotor slumped back against the door, then slid to the floor.

What was wrong with him? He didn’t belong here. He was a prisoner, only here to keep him alive until the war was over and they could figure out what to do with him. He was  _ not _ here to make friends.

He couldn’t do this anymore. No more leaving his room. From now on, he was a prisoner and nothing more.

He stared at the cake in his hands, and something inside of him felt like it had broken.


	6. Lotor Isn't In This One Either, But In Case You're Wondering, He's In His Room

Shiro woke up with a pounding headache and everything inside of him aching.

The remnants of a nightmare clung to the back of his mind, vivid images on the backs of his eyelids. He sat on the edge of his bed, struggling to breathe and calm his racing mind.

He was okay. He… he wasn’t there, he was okay, everything was…

He levered himself to his feet, shaky but needing to get out of his room. To prove that he could leave. To make sure that what he was seeing was real, that it wasn’t another trick, that it wasn’t  _ her _ .

With a soft beep, the door slid open. Shiro heaved a sigh, sagging against the doorway. It was okay. He was okay. She couldn’t get to him here.

The hallway was lit with a pale blue glow, just enough light to make out the rows of doors on either side of the hall. They were all identical, although some of the paladins had added their own touches here and there—posters on Hunk’s and Lance’s doors, a string of fairy lights over Pidge’s—and it all helped to ground Shiro enough to catch his breath.

A headache still throbbed at his temples, and he felt a heavy emptiness weighing down every one of his limbs. The nightmare was too real, too close to go back to bed, so he pulled on his boots and stepped outside instead.

He didn’t have a destination in mind; he just walked. He was too tired to go to the training deck, too shaky to settle down in the lounge. For a moment, the thought of looking at star charts in the bridge crossed his mind, but he nixed the idea. Seeing earth, millions of miles away, and being completely unable to reach it was too much for tonight.

Tonight, he was here in the castle. And that was good enough.

Eventually, his feet brought him to the black lion’s hangar. He stood in front of her, looking upwards at the lion, who sat majestically in a pose that reminded him of a housecat, only a hundred times bigger.

He felt small, like he had the first time he saw her, and nearly every time after that. The sheer size of the lion was enough to make his breath catch in his chest, and the fact that he was responsible for piloting her, for leading Voltron…

That was enough to scare him so he couldn’t move.

The black lion dropped her particle barrier, and then she lowered her head. Shiro took an instinctive step backwards, but then he felt her presence in his head, gentle and reassuring.

The lions didn’t speak in words so much as feelings and pictures, which worked for Shiro. He had a hard time translating his thoughts into words often enough anyway, so bypassing that block entirely made communication easier for him. Now, Black was saying that he didn’t need to be afraid of her, that he was welcome there and she was happy to see him.

Her entry ramp was lowered, so Shiro climbed it. The warm, welcoming presence grew stronger as he stepped into the cockpit. Soft blue light lit the empty control panel, the pilot’s chair in the middle of the floor.

“Hey, Black.” Shiro set his hand briefly against the control panel, then leaned back against the chair. He didn’t sit; he didn’t want to stay long, didn’t want to stay in any place for too long tonight. He felt restless, even with Black’s gentle purr in the back of his head.

Black wanted him to stay. She was gentle but insistent, wanting him to rest. She would watch over him while he slept, here where no one could get to him.

Shiro slid to the floor, his back against the side of the pilot’s chair. He wasn’t going to stay long, he told her. She didn’t argue, just deepened the comforting warmth coming from her side of their bond. Shiro tipped his head back, letting his eyes slip shut.

All he was aware of was Black, her presence like a blanket over him, and the soft hum coming from deep within the lion, like a rumbling purr all around him. The tension slipped from his shoulders. He breathed slower, deeper, while the background of the black lion started to fade as he—

_ She stood over him, yellow eyes glowing from under her hood. He couldn’t breathe, he was frozen in place, he couldn’t move, and she laughed, cold and harsh. She was here, and he was trapped here with her, back in this place, back where he couldn’t leave— _

_ “You’re slipping, Champion.” Her fingernails dug into his arm, piercing his skin and bringing him fully to reality. “Don’t forget where you are.” _

Shiro was on his feet before the memory was even gone. He grabbed the pilot’s chair behind him, his legs barely holding up, his hands shaking and his breathing ragged and gasping. Panic squeezed his chest, whirled in his head as he desperately tried to ground himself.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking, his words a jumbled mess. “I can’t—I—I have to get out.”

The black lion’s presence was strong, trying to comfort him, but he shoved her away. He stumbled out of the cockpit, tripping over an uneven ridge in the floor. He lost his balance, searching for something to steady himself, scratching the back of his forearm on a plate of metal jutting out of the lion and feeling his skin tear in a thin, precise cut.

He fell, arms wrapped around himself, the cold of the floor seeping into his knees, shaking all over. His head pounded, blood tracked down his arm in tiny streams, his chest too tight to get any air—

_ Breathe. _

It was the black lion in his head, an anchor in the midst of the panic. He was grateful for her as he dragged each gasp of air into his lungs. His head was full of conflicting memories and emotions, and the world seemed to sway around him, but Black was constant.

_ You are okay. You are safe. _

She couldn’t get to him here. He wasn’t there anymore.

He repeated it to himself, over and over again, and Black reaffirmed it, steady and reassuring. Gradually, the sharp pain in his chest faded, and the panic in his head slipped away, replaced by the steadiness of the Black lion.

After several minutes—maybe longer; he wasn’t totally sure—Shiro got to his feet, brushing his knees off with fingers that weren’t shaking nearly as hard as they had been before. The aching in his limbs weighed him down, and his head pounded, but he was here and he was safe. He pressed his Galra hand to the cut on his arm, trying to staunch the bleeding. It wasn’t too deep or long, but there was still quite a bit of red staining his skin, and now flowing into the cracks of his metal fingers.

“Sorry,” he said quietly, his voice echoing in the hangar. “That wasn’t what I meant to…”

The black lion silenced him, flooding him with a feeling of concern and almost exasperated affection. She wanted to take care of him, she said in feelings and concepts, but Shiro’s own guilt nagged at him all the same.

“I’m sorry, Black. I—” He stopped, exhaled heavily, ran a hand through his hair. She was telling him to stop apologizing, and he had to bite his tongue before saying  _ “I’m sorry” _ again. “I have to go. I can’t stay anywhere too long. It’s not… I just—I can’t stay.”

She understood. She was sad for him, but she understood. Shiro rested his hand on her paw, metal on metal, and sent a quiet thank you to her. She rumbled a purr in response.

Shiro’s footsteps echoed as he made his way out of the hangar. The castle halls were dark, the glowing lights on the walls flickering softly as he walked by. He was exhausted as he walked towards the wing of the castle with all of their bedrooms, but he doubted he would actually be able to sleep. The panic from earlier was still there, held back by a thin layer of unease.

He reached the hallway he’d started from, with all of the paladin’s bedrooms laid out on either side. He stopped in front of each one, standing quiet and still until he could convince himself he could hear their breathing on the other side.

He stood in front of Pidge’s doorway when he heard the soft hiss of a door opening behind him. He turned to find Matt standing in the open doorway, fully dressed minus his armor.

“Hey,” Shiro said. “You’re up late.”

“So are you,” Matt said, his voice raspy and his eyes bleary. “Woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I figured I’d just get some work done in the… You’re bleeding.”

Shiro glanced down at his arm, even though he knew exactly what he’d see. “Oh. Yeah, I just… tripped.”

Matt frowned. “And cut your arm?”

“Yeah,” Shiro said. It was the truth, anyway. “Tried to catch my balance and just cut my arm instead.”

With a  _ tsk _ ing sound, Matt gestured for Shiro to follow him back into his room. “Well, you can’t just stand here bleeding all over the floor. Come on.”

Shiro followed him inside, and Matt herded him into the bathroom. He frowned, noticing a slight limp in Matt’s walk, but he wondered if maybe he was imagining it, so he didn’t say anything.

While Matt rummaged under the sink, Shiro stood awkwardly behind him, holding his arm against himself. “You know, you don’t have to—”

“Shh.” Matt straightened up, one hand holding bandages and the other pointing threateningly at Shiro. “Don’t. I know I don’t have to, but here we are. So stop complaining and let me clean that cut.”

Shiro relented, letting Matt take his arm and wash the blood off of his skin. Even after being cleaned, the cut still bled. Matt’s forehead scrunched up in some combination of worry and concentration as he wrapped the bandage around Shiro’s arm.

“Thanks,” Shiro said after he had finished. Matt just nodded.

“No problem.” He trailed Shiro back into his room, and then hesitated at the door to the hallway. “Are you okay? You never did say why you were up so early.”

Shiro opened his mouth, and the words were right there— _ couldn’t sleep either; trying to calm down enough to get at least one or two hours of sleep before breakfast; just really on edge from whatever that druid did to me earlier.  _ Any of those options would’ve been honest, would’ve been okay. He could tell Matt those things.

But he froze. He couldn’t get the words out. He didn’t want to bother him, or he was scared of what he would think, or maybe he just didn’t want to admit that this was a problem at all. Whatever the case, his mouth found an easy lie instead.

“I was just getting a drink,” Shiro said.

He couldn’t tell for sure, but when he said it, he thought he saw a flash of disappointment cross Matt’s eyes.

“Oh,” Matt said. “I thought I heard you get up awhile ago.”

Shiro’s breath caught in his throat. For a split second, his mind tore between confessing to the lie or reinforcing it. He wanted to be honest with Matt; he wanted them to fix this thing between them that left him second-guessing his every word and over-analyzing every look Matt gave him.

“No, I think that might’ve been Lance,” Shiro said, and he could feel the barrier between the two of them grow. “I just got up.”

Matt frowned, studying his face for a long few seconds. Shiro’s head pounded and everything inside of him ached. Why was he doing this? His thoughts and emotions were muddled and confused, and he couldn’t make sense of any of it.

“Okay, well.” There was a tinge of something brusque and frustrated in his voice. “I’m going to go up to the bridge then. That mission intel isn’t going to decode itself.”

“Right,” Shiro said, stepping back to let him pass. “I won’t keep you from it.”

Matt made a grunting sound, then limped past him. Shiro watching the way he favored his left leg. There was definitely something off about his walk.

“Is your leg okay?”

Matt paused, his back to Shiro. “No worse than it usually is.”

For a moment, his mind spun, trying to remember if he’d been injured recently, and then in a split second, it clicked into place. A pang of guilt twisted his stomach.

“Matt, I—”

“It’s fine,” Matt said, his voice curt.

The pang of guilt twisted further. Shiro tried to speak, mouth dry and voice hoarse. “I’m sorry.”

“No, crap, wait.” Matt turned around to face him, tired circles ringing his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound like that. It really is fine. I’m just not wearing the brace Coran gave me.”

“Oh,” Shiro said, but he didn’t feel any better. “Does it… does it hurt you a lot?”

“I mean…” Matt hesitated, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s not that bad. I know how to manage it.”

That didn’t do anything to change the guilty feeling building up inside of him, but Shiro decided not to press any further.

“So, I…” Shiro hesitated, standing in the doorway to his own room. “I guess I’ll see you later, then. At breakfast.”

“I’ll be there,” Matt said. “Get some sleep, Shiro.”

Shiro tried to smile, but he didn’t answer. Matt turned and limped down the hall. Shiro closed his door so he wouldn’t have to watch.

 


End file.
